| A hulking yet mysteriously timid looking carcass is quietly disappearing under the watchful eye of the TV tower in the middle of historic East Berlin. The cranes and anonymous workers toil all day disassembling, piece-by-piece, the former government headquarters of the German Democratic Republic. Known as the Palast der Republik, the building controversially replaced Berlin’s city palace, a massive example of Prussian baroque splendor that, for centuries, was the anchor of the city’s very fabric. |  |
A Tale of One City – Hansel Jedermann
A hulking yet mysteriously timid looking carcass is quietly disappearing under the watchful eye of the TV tower in the middle of historic East Berlin. The cranes and anonymous workers toil all day disassembling, piece-by-piece, the former government headquarters of the German Democratic Republic. Known as the Palast der Republik, the building controversially replaced Berlin’s city palace, a massive example of Prussian baroque splendor that, for centuries, was the anchor of the city’s very fabric. Since the old palace was badly damaged in WWII, the GDR deemed it unsalvageable and cleared away the ruins. The giant vacancy was subsequently appropriated for the building of the GDR’s headquarters; amidst much fanfare, the building was viewed as one of the most socially ambitious new projects in the world. Overtly Utopian, it was not only the seat of the government, but also a space for a bowling alley, an art gallery and a concert hall. The fact that this was more than just a government building no longer matters to the new Berlin. Eighteen years after the Reunification, the last traces of East Germany’s communist regime are being neatly removed. The plan is to recreate the old city palace, to restore the pomp, vistas and order that had, for centuries, owned the heart of Berlin.
Further east, deeper into the communist neighborhoods of Friedrichshain, lies another construction site of a similar magnitude. The four cranes and scores of workers here enjoy a similar veil of anonymity, but this is due mostly to the site’s relative obscurity. The project under construction is called “O2 World” and is set to become Berlin’s largest multi-functional arena. The site is located upon a swath of vacant lots that stretches between two train stations and has no real neighbors save the largest remaining stretch of the Wall. Although the cranes are festively lit at night, making the project site visible from the trains, the everyday Berliner has yet to realize just how much of an impact the arena will have. The structure is intended to house close to 20,000 spectators for a variety of events, from concerts to basketball games. The commercial development that will, inevitably, follow in this area will certainly contain the ubiquitous chain restaurants, shops and entertainment venues that Berlin is, apparently, lacking. The keystone of the project, however, is the unfathomably large LED-screened façade of the arena itself. Boasting more screen area than Times Square, the arena will be able to broadcast information in a previously unimaginable spectacle of lights.
The two projects are emblematic of two disturbing urban trends now reaching fruition in the calm after the Reunification building boom. The first trend is based on a theory called Critical Reconstruction. Coined by architect Josef Paul Kleihues, Critical Reconstruction started in the 70s as a discussion about the future of European cities and led to a conscious effort to avoid so-called “Americanization.” In Berlin, the goal was to reinvent the city’s pre-war identity—an identity that was drastically altered by a post-war smorgasbord of international theories on city development implemented later. Kleihues’ cleverly worded trope rejected those foreign theories and encouraged the renovation and preservation of the city’s old, “authentic” housing blocks. As a seemingly realistic compromise, it quickly received the blessings of both academia and the avant-garde architectural elite. Hans Stimmann, Berlin’s planning commissioner in the early 90s, took the theory further by putting it into rigid practice. Eventually, the policies began prescribing the aesthetics of individual buildings to all. Perhaps the most detrimental effect of this process is not the compromise of creative ideals by many leading architectural thinkers, but rather the resulting impact on public opinion. The stylistic value judgments influenced by many of Stimmann’s policies have become the measuring stick by which many Berliners now judge new projects. The Palast der Republik was widely criticized for being an eyesore for the throngs of tourists who walk by it every day. Due mainly to this ugliness, the idea of tearing the buildings down and replicating the city palace in its place has been, more or less, welcomed with open arms. Here, it seems, creativity and diversity have been marginalized.
In blatant contradiction to Critical Reconstruction and its anti-American/globalization agenda is the new “O2 World.” Someone somewhere realized that Berlin didn’t have a venue suitable for Madonna and decided to do something about it. What is to come is to be one of the most grotesque displays of international big business capital and global advertising in all of Germany: an in-your-face, entertain-‘til-you-drop shopaganza. Berlin is trying to become a “global city” to rival Paris, New York, London and Tokyo. Afraid that its role as the confrontation point of Western ideologies is not capable of generating enough tourist revenue, the planning commission hypocritically turns a blind eye to the less photogenic, though no less authentic, parts of the city. The monstrous communist housing blocks, for example, are now worth losing in favor of big money mega-projects whose impact will swiftly settle the more localized and intimate daily debates between those still trying to acclimate to the Reunification.
What is Berlin going to become now that it is one city? It is hard to imagine that the current lack of self-awareness, along with the not-so-bitter fight between reactionary city planning and loose, roaming, ever-greedy big business, can be tolerated. One of the most endearing attributes of Berlin today is precisely its ability to repel generalizations. It is a city of local differences and ideas that add and multiply, yet never solidify; they never fit into one picture. The public’s positive response to the rebuilding of the city palace is a worrying signal that Berliners are buying into a particular vision of Berlin. This is why the aesthetic tyranny of the planning commission needs to be checked.
Perhaps if it weren’t so busy detailing window cornice ordinances, it would have time to catch changes like the “O2 World” development before the largest remaining stretch of the Wall becomes the footnote to an LED-powered orgy of distraction.
